


Welcome Home

by LoadedRevolver



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Anal Sex, Inventive use of olive oil, M/M, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:51:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4381613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoadedRevolver/pseuds/LoadedRevolver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a prompt on Tumblr: 'Imagine your OTP going at it for the first time in weeks, after one of them finally gets back from a long trip.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Home

Slash usually didn’t mind being in the house by himself.

He enjoyed the peace and quiet, never really wanting to break the silence by turning on the TV or listening to music. In fact, he was happy enough to sit out on the small balcony in the evening, small glass of orange juice beside himself and look out at the boats silently sailing along the Paget Sound. He smiled to himself, remembering the battle Duff had in trying to convince him to leave Los Angeles and move with him to Seattle. It had felt like he was making his new home on the moon at first. But now, Slash couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

He’d gotten back late last night, after a marathon flight from the Philippines, back and neck aching from the awkward position he’d fallen asleep in on the plane. His throat was scratchy from the recycled air, and all he’d been thinking about was having a shower, a sandwich, and fucking Duff so hard both of them saw stars.

Well….two out of three wasn’t bad.

He’d forgotten that as he’d touched down at Sea-Tac, Duff was still in the air somewhere over the Atlantic. While he’d been playing gigs in South East Asia, Duff’s newest band, Walking Papers, had been playing in Europe. It hadn’t stopped Duff calling Slash’s hotel and moaning obscenities down the phone at him, though. So he’d settled for a long hot shower, followed by a huge BLT and ended up falling face first onto the bed before grabbing Duff’s pillow and drifting into a deep sleep. With any luck, he’d be awake by the time Duff got home.

Duff hated flying.

No. He fucking despised it. Flying brought out the worst in him, and he hated it with an all abiding passion. Back when he’d first started touring with Guns, he’d taken more than one panic attack that freaked everyone out. The first remedy had seen him get so wasted he’d pass out on the flight. Then, once he’d gotten sober and clean, his doctor had prescribed him with Xanax and he’d been pretty good about rationing them. Until he’d taken one a day, which turned into twenty two a day. He’d ended up strung out and on his knees in the bathroom at home, puking his guts up and in tears as Slash held him and told him that he was going to be fine. Needless to say, those pills of evil went into the bin there and then.

So now his only cure for the misery of flying was watching movie after movie on the flight while cursing the lucky bastards who could actually sleep on the way home. He’d already watched _Master and Commander_ , _Dead Man Walking_ , and was just about halfway through _The Thin Red Line_ when the ‘Fasten Seatbelt’ sign flashed on. It didn’t matter how many times he’d flown into Sea-Tac, as soon as he saw the morning sun make the waters of the Puget Sound shimmer and sparkle to his left, he was home. And ever since he’d convinced Slash to move to Seattle with him, he always tried to spot their house as the plane made its final approach.

Even if it meant he had to prop his eyes open with toothpicks.

Slash had woken early, sleep making his eyes sticky and the mother of all morning wood trying to dig a hole through the mattress. His hair was sticking up and out in all directions, and he briefly wondered if he could actually be bothered to get up. And then he remembered…..Duff’s flight would be landing soon. And the sooner he got showered and ate, then the sooner he’d be ready to fuck Duff through the nearest available horizontal surface.

Getting through baggage claim and customs seemed to take an age for Duff. His eyes were dry and sore and his head was beginning to pound. His limbs felt like they were encased in concrete and even thinking about moving was painful. He was grateful for the trolley his bags were precariously balanced on, because right now, it was the only thing holding him upright. As he staggered out towards where his driver had parked, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket.  
He squinted as he pulled the text up and read it.

_Missed you. Horny as fuck. Get your sexy ass home NOW. Saul. X_

 

Duff put the last of his bags down in the hallway with a loud groan. He was getting too old for this shit, he thought, and stretched. His back made a loud crack and he yawned. Before he’d even had time to open his eyes, Duff was propelled backwards and he hit the door with an audible thump as Slash launched himself at Duff. He grunted as the air was knocked from his lungs, Slash kissing him ferociously, teeth nipping at Duff’s bottom lip. If Duff had been exhausted before, he was far from it now. His cock swelled as Slash literally tore at his track pants, shoving them down and off of his hips, nails scratching at the skin. Duff wound his hands into Slash’s hair, yanking on the ebony curls and making Slash groan out loud. Tongues lashed against the other, breath heaved against skin, and hands developed a life of their own. Clothes hit the floor as they managed to get as far as the kitchen without tripping each other up.

Slash managed to pull his mouth away from Duff’s, eyes slightly unfocused with longing and lust.

“Jesus fucking Christ….have you any idea…..” he gasped, as he backed Duff towards the table, frantically kicking his sleep pants off and watching as they sailed into the corner.

“..Fucking hell….” grunted Duff, yanking his t-shirt off and throwing it somewhere behind him. His track pants and boxers were caught around his ankles and he swore under his breath as he pulled his sneakers and socks off. He’d never been so horny and wound up as he was right now. He’d just thrown his shoe into the corner when Slash pushed him back down onto the table and shoved his legs up, knees just this side of comfortable as they landed against Duff’s chest. Duff grabbed a hold of the table’s edge; bracing himself for the inevitable hard fucking Slash was planning……when Slash let go of his thighs and moved away.

“What the fuck?” he groused. Slash had all but run over to the pantry, shoving packets of pasta and tins of tomatoes onto the floor, swearing loudly in frustration.

“Don’t fucking move!” Slash yelled, as Duff heard a jar hit the floor and shatter.

“Wasn’t planning on it….”

“AHA! Found it!” Slash cried triumphantly, and danced around the shards of glass before dashing back out to where Duff was laid out. His cock bobbed against his stomach at the sight. Duff, sprawled out on the ebony table, pale skin broken by myriad tattoos, blond hair reaching to just above his shoulders and splayed out against the black surface. Legs that seemed to go on forever dangled over the side, and his cock was beautiful beyond words. Slash must have stared at Duff for a second longer than Duff had wanted him to. His mouth went dry as he watched Duff reach down and slowly begin to jack himself off, smirking.

“Well, since I figured you were more interested in looking in the fucking pantry than you were in fucking me, I’d get started by myself…..” The bottle of olive oil Slash had been holding was slammed down onto the table with a loud bang. He slapped Duff’s hand away from his cock, watching as Duff winced.

“Don’t even think about it. Mine.”

It was Duff’s turn to watch now, mouth dropping open as Slash opened the bottle of olive oil and poured a generous amount onto his hand.

“Three weeks. Three fucking weeks of closing my eyes and imagining what I was going to do to you when we got home. Have you any idea of how fucking horny I was?” said Slash, wrapping his oil covered hand around Duff’s dick and stroking it at a torturously slow pace. Duff’s eyes slid closed and a long, low sigh escaped from him. Butterflies filled his stomach, goose bumps broke out on his skin, and he grunted as he tried to push his hips up and into Slash’s velvet grip.

“I fucking dreamt of your cock, almost every night. And then just when I’d managed to stop seeing it every time I closed my eyes, you rang me and told me you wished I was in bloody Germany with you, and that you wanted to suck my cock.”

“You bastard….stop fucking teasing and just FUCK ME!” Duff growled. Slash just cocked an eyebrow and continued to stroke Duff at a slow pace.

“God….the things I was thinking of doing to you when I was in Manila. You’d have loved it…we’d have just gone around the hotel suite butt fucking naked. The humidity was awful….”

Duff managed to prop himself up on his elbows, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out across his skin. “What’s really awful is the fact that you’re not fucking me yet. Stop jacking me off, you bastard and JUST FUCKING FUCK ME!!” Duff’s voice echoed around the kitchen, almost breaking on the last word. Slash leaned forward and kissed him so hard, Duff’s vision blurred. He lost all track of time, didn’t even register that Slash had used the olive oil to lube himself up until he felt Slash’s cock nudge against him, trying his best to enter him slowly. Slash was trembling with the effort of holding back, for as much as he wanted to be buried deep within Duff, he was well aware of the need to go gently. At least until Duff pulled away from the kiss, and put his forehead against Slash’s.

“Just….fuck…me.” he said, voice shaking with arousal and need. “I need this. I need you.” Their breath mingled, and Slash could feel Duff shaking as he continued a slow push that seated him seep within the man he loved and missed more than anything else. Duff groaned as he tightened around Slash, eyes sliding closed as he fell backwards against the table top. He brought his legs up, locking them tightly around Slash’s waist, heels resting in the hollow of his back as Slash began to fuck him in earnest now. Duff skidded across the table, arching up and exposing his throat. Slash buried his face where shoulder met neck, and bit down, hard. Duff made a noise somewhere between a growl and moan, and pushed his hips down to meet the blistering pace that Slash was setting. He was actually looking forward to the inevitable bruising on his ass later on.

There was no way either of them were going to last much longer. Slash had bent forward, hair brushing against Duff’s nose, staring into pools of green. He gripped Duff’s thighs, fingers tight and bruising, lust rocketing through him like an out of control train. Duff’s breath was coming in loud gasps, chest heaving and throat burning as he felt his orgasm pool and coalesce at the base of his spine. Slash’s hips stuttered, slamming erratically into Duff as he desperately tried to hold out long enough for Duff to come first.

The first sign that Duff was coming was that his back had arched up, pulling Slash even deeper within.The second was that he made a totally unique sound, one that only Slash ever heard, a cross between a low whine and moan that never failed to turn Slash on.

Slash lost the power of speech as he watched Duff come, hard. His head slammed back onto the table, mouth open in a silent scream, cock spurting thick white threads over his abdomen and fingers curled against the edge of the table, knuckles white. Watching Duff lose himself totally at his hands was his undoing. Slash came hard, almost blacking out as he slumped over Duff, spent and exhausted.

Several moments passed in silence, save for both of them trying to catch their breath. Slash reluctantly pulled out of Duff, pushing a shaking hand through his blonde locks as he winced at the loss of contact.

“Welcome home, babe.”


End file.
